


Jyn Erso, Journalist and War Correspondent

by pythia



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Everyone is fine, F/M, I am writing this to hurt myself, POV Jyn Erso, inspired by real journalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 06:18:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12835077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pythia/pseuds/pythia
Summary: “Once I was on my own, I never stopped to look up and see how the Empire changed the universe for everyone. After Scarif, I can’t stop looking. I think there are more people that need to have their eyes opened by the realities of the Rebellion, rather than just focusing on their day to day struggles. It’s easy to do, just worry about your own patch, but that’s exactly what the Empire wants. We’re stronger together, when we look out for each other,” she sits back brushing her bangs out of her face, wincing at the taste of her caf, "Now that I've looked up, I can't look away."





	Jyn Erso, Journalist and War Correspondent

**Author's Note:**

> The violence, and mentions of violence probably escalate. 
> 
> This fic was written after reading two pieces about journalism in war zones. The first, was [Saint Anna of the Walking Dead by at Patheos](http://www.patheos.com/blogs/goodletters/2017/11/st-anna-walking-dead/). The other was [After the liberation of Mosul, an orgy of killing by Ghaith Abdul-Ahad for the Guardian](https://www.theguardian.com/world/2017/nov/21/after-the-liberation-of-mosul-an-orgy-of-killing)
> 
> I must warn you, that both pieces are deeply disturbing Ghaith Abdul-Ahad's piece on Mosul is the most harrowing piece that I have ever read. As a historian, I'm paid to dig around in the deepest, darkest, piles of shit done by mankind and find meaning. I was traumatized by what I read, and I wasn't even there. 
> 
> After reading these, I wanted to think about the sort of people that continually put themselves into danger, not to fight, but to document and inform others about what they'd seen. I'd like to think that Jyn Erso, if given the chance, would have done just that.

_An excerpt from a profile of Jyn Erso first printed in Core Life Magazine._

I meet Jyn Erso in a cafe in the Pantroa system. She’s dressed in fatigues, with a blue scarf draped about her neck, casually drinking caf and typing into a datapad. Erso’s smile is slight feral as she recounts her childhood as a soldier among the Partisans after the late Saw Guerra adopted her.

“Once I was on my own, I never stopped to look up and see how the Empire changed the universe for everyone. After Scarif, I can’t stop looking. I think there are more people that need to have their eyes opened by the realities of the Rebellion, rather than just focusing on their day to day struggles. It’s easy to do, just worry about your own patch, but that’s exactly what the Empire wants. We’re stronger together when we look out for each other,” she sits back brushing her bangs out of her face, wincing at the taste of her caf.

Few people could take a suicide mission and turn it into a career in journalism, but Jyn Erso has done just that. Her detractors charge Erso with creating propaganda for the Rebellion, but there’s an authenticity to the work that has given many in the Senate pause. Perhaps Erso’s claims that Stardust - a project by her own father - to build a planet-killer called are true, given the mysterious destruction of Jedha City and Alderaan. When I pose this question to her, I am met with an icy stare. “Scarif didn’t blow itself up. Those people, Imperial and Rebel alike, didn’t just drop dead. They were killed by Palpatine’s need to control the universe. If we’re just going to talk about Scarif, I’m done with this interview. I want to talk about Mon Mothma and the Imperial labor camps.”

Jyn Erso is not afraid to dictate her terms, a trait I admire and resent. She gives me much the same answer about rumors of a relationship with an unnamed Rebel intelligence officer. Rolling her green eyes and curling her lip, it is clear that Erso is entirely focused on her work. “You wouldn’t even think to ask that question if I wasn’t a half-decent looking human. Would you ask a humanoid or sentient that question?” With a scowl, the interview is over.

__________________________________________________

Jyn was grumpy after her interview, she didn’t like when anyone took the focus off of the Rebellion or the people whose lives were considered to be acceptable to be collateral damage in the Empire’s fight to consolidate the universe into its hegemonic rule. The most important part of her work was continuing to endlessly reach out to those who consider the Empire’s scramble for power to be unimportant in their daily lives, and those who the Empire lured or coerced into service. Bodhi Rook wasn’t a bad man. Galen Erso wasn’t a bad man. They made the best choices out of all the shitty options laid before them by life. Rebellions were built on hope. 

Kicking off her boots and settling on to her bed, Jyn flipped through her datapad at the latest reports released by Rebel intelligence. They were mostly just lists of the dead, spreadsheets accounting for the lives lost across countless worlds, crushed into stardust by the Empire’s “progress.”  Someone, somewhere, would write a history of this, for those who will come after. Jyn couldn’t wait for the future, because maybe she could make a better universe.

In the fresher, she used her three minutes of hot water to wash her hair and body the best she could. Those were the three minutes that Jyn took to think about herself. To think about that last question. Cassian. Where was he? What was he doing? Was he the one writing the reports that would become declassified for her months later, appearing on her datapad in the middle of the night. Did Cassian know that she lay in bed at night, sleepless from the horrors that she read about and saw on her datapad? The things she told people about in calm voiceovers, that left her shaky and sweating. 

Cassian, where are you? 

The water ran cold, and Jyn stumbled out, getting dressed in the cold, recycled air of her ship. 

They hadn’t spoken properly since Scarif, stumbling into the elevator, half-dead and unsure if their signal reached someone, anyone. So much of Jyn’s life was about wondering if anyone was listening. It turns out, that a princess of a dead world, was listening. 

Cassian stared at her in the elevator, like she was the most precious thing in the world. They were going to die together, in each other’s arms. He leaned down and kissed her softly, almost apologetically, just as the elevator came to the ground floor. 

Then, they were found by Kes Dameron, limping along on an improvised crutch, “Hey, so I have a stolen shuttle, if you want to get out of here. You can even keep kissing, if that’s what you’re into.” 

Cassian laughed, coughing up blood before stumbling into the stolen shuttle with Jyn and Kes. Jyn loaded Cassian into a field ready bacta tank and passed out.

Cassian, where are you? 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think, or put in a request on my [Tumblr](http://pythiaspeaks.tumblr.com)


End file.
